ut of her, and the grand old Hoosier Democracy will
appear once more upon the mountain tops as the bringer of glad tidings.
What's the answer, my lads, to Uncle Ike's philosophy?"

"Between campaigns we're all reformers," said Harwood guardedly. "I feel
it working in my own system."

"Between campaigns," replied the Honorable Isaac Pettit impressively,
"we're all a contemptible lot of cowards, that's what's the matter with
us. Was Thomas Jefferson engaged in manipulating legislatures? Did he
obstruct the will of the people? Not by a long shot he did _not_! And
that grand old patriot, Andrew Jackson, wasn't he satisfied to take his
licker or let it alone without being like a heathen in his blindness,
bowing down to wood and stone carved into saloons and distilleries?"

"It's said by virtuous Republicans that our party is only a tail to the
liquor interests. If you're going back to the Sage of Monticello, how do
you think he would answer that?"

"Bless you, my dear boy; it's not the saloons we try to protect; it's
the plain people, who are entitled to the widest and broadest liberty.
If you screw the lid down on people too tight you'll smother 'em. I'm
not a drinkin' man; I go to church and in my newspaper I preach the
felicities of sobriety and domestic peace. But it's not for me to
dictate to my brother what he shall eat or wear. No, sir! And look here,
don't you try to read me out of the Democratic Party, young man. At
heart our party's as sweet and strong as corn; yea, as the young corn
that leapeth to the rains of June. It's the bosses that's keepin' us
down."

"Your reference to corn throws us back on the distilleries," suggested
Harwood, laughing.

But he was regarding the Honorable Isaac Pettit attentively. Pettit had
changed his manner and stood rocking himself slowly on his heels. He had
been a good deal at the capital of late, and this, together with his
visit to Thatcher's house, aroused Harwood's curiosity. He wondered
whether it were possible that Pettit and Thatcher were conspiring
against Bassett: the fact that he was so heavily in debt to the senator
from Fraser seemed to dispose of his fears. Since his first visit to
Fraserville Dan had heard many interesting and amusing things about the
editor. Pettit had begun life as a lawyer, but had relapsed into rural
journalism after a futile effort to find clients. He had some reputation
as an orator, and Dan had heard him make a speech distinguished by hum